Kissing
by ShirleyAnn66
Summary: The first time she kissed him, it was mainly because she wanted to. Heather/Beck.


**Title:** Kissing - 1/1

**Warnings :** Major, major fluffage inside. Seriously. It's so bad that I gave it a sucky title because there was really nothing else to call it. There are no redeeming qualities in this fic at all. May cause sugar shock - read at your own risk.

**Disclaimer/Claimer: **I do not own nor am I affiliated with Jericho or CBS or any of the other PTB in relation to the show. No infringement is intended. I'm just taking the characters out to play, and will do my best to show them a very, VERY good time. ;)

**A/N:** Long time no post. I post all of my stuff at my LiveJournal page (same username) but I'm going to start to post what I've completed here.

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The first time she kissed him, it was partly to get his attention, partly to shut him up, partly to knock him off-balance, and partly because Jake was watching. But it was mainly because she wanted to. They were in the middle of an argument – as usual – and what she remembered thinking during the kiss was how such a stern mouth could be so soft, and how such a cold man could be so warm. What she remembered most about the immediate aftermath was the look of utter shock on his (and Jake's) face, the way she had rendered him speechless, the way she had the last word before she walked away (and how much she wanted to kiss him again).

The first time he kissed her was a few hours later when he showed up at her house to talk (fight) about what had happened earlier. He kissed her partly to intimidate her, partly to punish her, partly to win the confrontation, and partly to have the last word. But it was mainly because he wanted to – even though he saw the way she had looked at Jake, and he thought he was being played. Again. What he remembered thinking during the kiss was that she fit into his arms just right and she tasted far too good to be real. What he remembered most about the immediate aftermath was how she struggled to catch her breath, the surprise on her face, the soft look in her eyes even as he hurt her with his words (and how much he wanted to kiss her again).

The second time he kissed her, it was three days later and they were in the bomb shelter under city hall, checking the supplies and ensuring that all the equipment was in working order – they never knew when they may need to take cover from an attack. He kissed her partly in apology for the last time and for the words that had hurt her, and partly because he wanted to heal any rift between them, but mostly he kissed her because he wanted to. Even though he still thought she was playing him to get to Jake, he wanted to see if her lips were really as soft as he remembered, if she really fit into his arms as perfectly as he remembered, if she was as _right_ as he remembered. They were, she did, and she was, and he suspected that whatever game they were playing, he had already lost. But when he felt her lips move against his in response and felt the tip of her tongue tentatively touch against his lips, he pulled away and let her go, looking anywhere but in her eyes as he ushered her out of the bomb shelter and back into the street.

They spent the next two weeks circling each other like two stars trapped in orbit. Neither could move closer; neither could move away. She wondered what would happen next; he wondered the same thing. She wondered if he hesitated because he was still mourning his wife; he wondered if she was still pining for Jake. He wondered when he became the coward she had called him; she wondered why the men she wanted never seemed to really want her back. He wondered when he'd turned sixteen again; she wondered if she'd ever grow up. They both wondered why the timing didn't feel quite right, and what, exactly, they were waiting for.

The second time she kissed him, it was six days later and it was partly relief, partly gratitude and mostly because she needed to reassure herself that he was _alive_. He had been out on long patrol for four days when contact was abruptly lost. For two days, there had been no communication and no sign when the others went searching. She didn't sleep for those two days, fearing the worst, hoping for the best. She paced the floor, sat wordlessly in Bailey's and yelled at Jake when he tried to reassure her. Everyone poured into main street when the humvees arrived and he got out, barking orders like nothing had gone wrong. He took his helmet off as he strode purposefully towards the sheriff's office, his face grim, but his expression softened when he saw her and he paused when she held out her hand to him. He took it without thinking and then she was kissing him and holding him tight (or as tight as she could when he was in body armor and heavily armed). Then she yelled at him and then she ran and then she sat in a back room in Bailey's where she cried on Mary's shoulder until she had no tears left to shed.

The third time he kissed her, it was partly in apology, partly in relief, partly in comfort, but mostly it was because he was happy to see her, too. It was a half-hour after her tears had stopped and she was sitting alone in Bailey's back room. It had taken him that long to dispense with his duty (duty! sometimes he envied Jake, who's only true duty was to his family and his home) and to track her down. He came into the room, gathered her into his arms and kissed her gently, and he held her tight as the tears began again. He sat down with her on his lap, and he comforted her with hugs and soothing noises and butterfly kisses that hovered on the line of being chaste and being carnal. But they both held back – she because she was self-consciously aware that she looked (and felt) awful; he because there was no lock on the door.

They kissed each other for the first time a few hours later, in her house, with the doors securely locked - and it was solely because they wanted to.


End file.
